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ONE
Journey
I love my family,I truly, truly do, but when it comes to one of mom’s charity events, we’re all required to attend. Okay, fine, it’s the only one she organizes, and for a damn good reason, too. Mom’s sister, my Aunt Katerina, well, to say her life was hard is putting it mildly. She didn’t find a man like my father, one who worked his fingers to the bone, loved his wife and children unconditionally, one whom material things didn’t matter to. His family knowing they were loved and providing a roof over our heads and food in our bellies was what he was after. Don’t get me wrong; Dad had pride, worked two jobs so Mom could stay home with me until kindergarten, then she worked hours that worked right along with my school schedule while Dad continued to work, putting my brother, Wylder, through college. And they would have done the same for me, except I veered onto a different path. Tonight is all about Aunt Katerina and the many who suffered at the hands of someone else. It’s probably why my emotions are so heavy, knowing that it still happens. Even if I didn’t know my aunt that well, what I remember is watching my mother crumble when the cops knocked on our door, bringing us the news that my aunt’s husband killed her. Death by strangulation. It was horrible to hear the news at nine years old, to watch my dad barely catch Mom before her knees hit the ground. Ever since that day, she volunteered at the local women’s shelter for domestic violence, bringing me right along with her as a way to give back. My parents tried for years to get Aunt Katerina to leave her husband. The one time she was packed up after he was leaving town for a few days cost her her life. He came back when she least expected it, that was when he finally took everything out on Aunt Katerina, leaving us completely devastated.
Every year, Mom hosts this huge gala, charging thousands for a plate, receiving donations galore, and holding auctions out the wazoo to help not just the local women’s shelters but many across all of Nevada. It always leaves me feeling heavy. It also spurs my ass into purging anything and everything I can from my overflowing closet. Which is why the second my feet hit my condo, my heels came off and the zipper to my dress rasped down, leaving it in a pool of fabric at the front door for me to pick up later. I marched into my bedroom, found a comfy pair of navy-blue joggers, hiked them up my hips, unclasped my bra because no one needs a torture device when you have some, slid on a white tank top, and then headed to the closet to find a sweatshirt. Yes, it’s hot as hell in Vegas this time of year, but that doesn’t mean I don’t freeze my tits off, the air conditioning might be set to seventy-six degrees Fahrenheit; that doesn’t mean I don’t get cold. It’s who I am by nature. Anything below what the thermostat says inside my place, and I’m wrapping myself up in more than what I’m wearing now.
I flip the light switch on in my closet, knowing it’s time to make some headway in this disaster of a room. No one ever tells you when you’re an influencer on Instalook that you’ll have more clothes, shoes, and accessories than you know what to do with, or that the hours you’re keep getting started and continuing on further in your career is ridiculous. I’m talking all hours of the day and night some weeks. Others, like the one I have coming up, are much easier. They always are this time of year. Those two weeks, a week before the charity gala and after, I keep my calendar open, knowing Mom needs help to make sure things run smoothly, and after because, well, sometimes shit gets heavy.
I probably could have chosen a different field, one like home design. That wasn’t the right fit for me, though. The thought of changing home décor every season or with the latest trend seems ridiculous to me, and expensive. Not that I wouldn’t have donated old pieces like I do now; it just wasn’t the right fit. Fashion, on the other hand, that’s a whole other story, starting with thrifting pieces, finding small business-owned boutiques, and then, yes, a few splurge pieces that I like to share with my audience as well as items to save on, completely my jam, and it’s worked.
“Yeah, this can’t happen tonight.” One look, that’s all it takes for me to move to the center island, where I keep my tried and true sweatshirt, snag it up and pull over my head, situating it until I’m comfortable before walking back out of the room. “Tomorrow,” I promise myself. It’s so bad that there are shoes littering the floor, clothes half on the hanger, half off, plus boxes that need to be taken care of. If I start right now, I won’t finish until I’m passed out asleep on top of the donation pile. Something tells me drool wouldn’t be a great factor when donating clothes to the women’s shelter. Instead, I make beeline for my bathroom to wash off my makeup and brush my teeth. My bed is calling my name, but no way would I sleep in a full face, plus it would create even more cleaning to do if it smeared all the sheets. It doesn’t take me long to do the bare minimal in my skincare routine before I grab my toothbrush, shove it into my mouth, and go through the motions while my eyes get heavier. The only plus side to tonight was my brother making sure we all had a hired driver. My hair was out the second my butt hit the backseat; I promptly pulled out a hair tie from my small purse and threw my hair up in the messy bun it’s in now.
I leave the bathroom, making sure all of the lights are off as I make my way to my bed, then pull down the covers, throw the decorative pillows to the bench I keep at the foot of the mattress, and slide inside, wrapping myself in a cocoon of blankets and snuggling into the pillow beside me. Seconds later, I’m out like a light.
So much so that I don’t hear Nico use his key to open my door, or the sounds of fabric leaving his body knowing he sleeps naked. I don’t even stir when he jostles me slightly, rearranging me so my ear is on his chest. It’s when he says, “Sleep, la vita mia,” that I’m cognizant enough to know he’s here with me. You see, it’s not that Nico is my brother’s best friend as to why we’re sneaking around; it’s because what he and his family are involved with is dark and dangerous. And in Nico’s own way, he’s protecting me, just not my heart.
TWO
Nico
“Nico,”Journey mutters. Her body is pressed against mine. She’s glued to me like an octopus, skin against skin. The only way she’ll sleep this way is if I’m in bed with her, and the only way I sleep is if I kick her air conditioning down to seventy-two the second I walk through the door. Three hours tops, and I was reaching for her, divesting Journey of the oversized sweatshirt and fleece-lined pants, finding her deliciously naked beneath them. She knew what I wanted, stayed still like the perfect woman she is when my mouth descended on hers, fingers gliding through her wetness as she held on to the edge of the headboard beneath the pillow. I needed control, especially after a night of dealing with bullshit, then knowing how hard it was yesterday for the Hayes family as well as Journey. She was desperate, attempting not to move her fingers, knowing that on those rare occurrences when I let her take over, I’d be feeling her touching me everywhere. That wasn’t par for the course last night; she held still, head tipped back. When our kiss ended, I replaced my fingers with my cock, sinking inside her slowly, so slowly that her hips arched up. That’s when my hands cupped the cheeks of her peach of an ass as legs wrapped around me, ankles crossed at my lower back. I moved my hands, pressing down on her sweet and shapely hips. Heaven is the only way to describe how it felt, feeling her cunt ripple around me, holding still as it attempted to suck me in. My thumb slid over smooth flesh until it landed on her clit, and she came apart with just my length fully seated inside her while my thumb moved in all the right ways that had her going off hard and fast. After wringing that first orgasm from her body, I worked her up again. This time, she took me with her, sucking my cum straight from my balls and painting her depths. Fuck, I’m a bastard, coming here in the middle of the night, finally closing shit down with the family, telling my men to get gone so none would be the wiser of where I spend my nights wrapped in any and all things Journey. I should have been there with the whole Hayes family last night. That didn’t happen, though. When you’ve newly taken over the business, there’s no night off, no days off, and your phone doesn’t fucking stop ringing.
“Journey, I need to take this call.” I kiss the side of her head. Her eyes flutter open then closed as my fingers slide her auburn hair off one creamy shoulder before pulling the sheet and comforter up so she won’t freeze to death.
“Okay, come back soon.” She’s barely gotten four hours of sleep between the short nap we took after I came to her only to wake her up, have my wicked way with her, us falling back asleep, and then my phone vibrating across the nightstand, jarring me awake.
“Journey.” I stare down at her until she gives me those green eyes of hers, letting her know with one look that the only thing that would take me away from climbing back in the bed with her would be work.
“Go take care of business, or I’m going to take a shower and get to work,” she teases. I watch as she rolls from her back to her side, stuffing the pillow I was using under her head. Yeah, right, as if she’ll drag her ass out from under the covers while the air conditioning is humming out the ice-cold air. And I’m not willing to kick it up yet either. My morning is supposed to be free—no meetings, no bullshit that needs to be taken care of right away. My Sunday morning is my own. Not even church was keeping me away from Journey today, and if you knew my mother, you’d understand the ration of shit she gave me when I told her I wouldn’t be there or at Sunday dinner afterwards.
“Lorenzo,” I answer the phone, eyes still locked on Journey’s body. She’s already falling back to sleep. Not knowing what this conversation is going to be like or how long it’s going to take, I grab my boxer briefs off the floor where I dropped them last night, using my shoulder to hold my phone as I get them back on my body, my cock hardening just thinking about Journey naked beneath the sheets.
“Boss, we got problems.” It never fucking fails. There’s always something. It took time and patience transferring power from one Donotello to the other. Emilio, my father, handing it over was unheard of seeing how he’s in good health, still fairly young in most men’s eyes. But he was ready to hand it over, and seeing as I’m the only son, the oldest child in our bloodline that seemed to only give him one daughter after me, the business came to me. It was only a matter of time before Ma said enough was enough, wanting to enjoy her grandchildren. A bone she picks with me daily, telling me to settle down with Journey and have kids of my own. That’s all well and fine until shit happens. Journey becoming a target because as my weakest link, our enemies will go after her with a vengeance I can’t even think about is what’s holding me back.
“When the fuck don’t we?” It’s a good thing I made quick work of walking out of Journey’s room, closing the door until it’s only cracked open, because something tells me I’m not going to like what Enzo has to say. He may be my cousin, but he’s also my right-hand man, an advisor of sorts, letting me know what’s happening before it does and someone to talk things over with.
“Russians are moving in. Caught one of them pushing heroin on The Strip by Wylder’s place.” Petrov is barking up the wrong fucking tree. He’s got his territory, and I’ve got mine; the whole Strip is ours, bought and paid for in multiple ways—protection, money laundering, and racketeering. We don’t dabble in the skin department. If women want to sell their bodies, that’s their prerogative. Drugs are a whole other story. You want pot, we got no problem in selling that, but not to school kids, and we don’t push pills or anything that needs a vein or goes up their nose.
“Bring in the men. Seems we need a meeting, have a chat, and make a stand when it comes to Petrov and his crew.” I already know the reason for it; he’s trying to see what I’m made of, if I’m a pushover or if I’ve got what it takes like my old man. Petrov has another thing coming if he thinks he’ll run all over the Donotellos. My dad didn’t raise a pussy that is afraid to fight.
“What time?” Enzo asks, knowing I’d be busy this morning. Besides Wylde and Enzo, not one single fucking person knows where I am, who I’m with, and that’s how I intent to keep it.
“Tonight. Let the guys be with their famiglia. The men who are working today, tell them to make a large presence. I don’t want that shit touching the bars and clubs. The fucking pigs will be swarming in a second,” I tell him as I walk to the sliding glass doors that lead out to a small lanai where Journey has a little table and chairs set up. A lot smaller than my place. For her, this is perfect. When I’m off the clock for a few hours, I’d much rather be in something that’s spacious and outside of the city, unlike where Journey’s condo is located.
“Will do. See you later, boss,” Lorenzo responds.
“Later.” I hit the end button just as two arms wrap around my middle from behind. I heard Journey’s light footsteps when she walked out of her room, so I wrapped up that conversation as fast as I could. It’s not that I don’t trust her. The less she knows the better, especially in the eyes of the law. Unless you’re married, you essentially have no immunity when it comes to them subpoenaing you as a witness. Believe me, we’ve seen it happen more times than I’d care to admit in my years.
“It’s a shame you put your clothes on. I’ll just be taking them off again,” I tell her, tossing my phone to the loveseat. One of my hands captures hers as she places a kiss on my spine.
“That’s okay. I enjoy the way you strip me bare. You don’t have to leave?” she asks, used to my fucked-up schedule.
“Nope, you have me until the afternoon.” She slides around, face tipped up towards mine, asking for my lips without saying the words. I give her what she wants. My hands move to her waist, and I pick her up until her legs wrap around my waist, using the glass door and my thighs to hold her. My lips graze hers lightly at first until she’s squirming against me, naked core against my boxer brief-covered cock. I guess I was wrong when I assumed she’d re-dressed; she’s only wearing the oversized sweatshirt, and it’s fucking perfect because as I take her mouth deeper, swallowing her moans, I feel her wetness against me and know that if my night is going to go to shit, at least my day is going to start with being deep inside Journey.
“Nico.” The softness of my name coming from her has me taking control and making her come again.
THREE
